Non Grata
by Mrs Mengele
Summary: A day in the life of Prince Vegeta, slave and victim to one Lord Frieza. A one-shot that explains, perhaps, why he is what he is. **COMPLETED**


__DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Toriyama. Features graphic violence.  


  


NON GRATA  


//  


Frieza wasn't mad, he wasn't angry. The lizard was seldom overcome with such lowly emotions. What had earned him his special treatment today was something altogether different. The monster was happy.  


Vegeta wasn't in the monster's chambers, as usual, nor in his own - where incidents such as these also took place, albeit not as often. He was in the Lord's throne room, so that his elite also could participate in this evening's entertainment.  


Two of his warriors threw Vegeta's already roughened up form on the floor before him. He squinted his eyes in protest to the sharp light, refusing to raise his head. Frieza descended the stairs from his throne and stopped in front of him, only his white feet visible to Vegeta's slumped form. He didn't look up, but he didn't turn his head either. He knew that there was nothing he could do to escape this, but he was damned if he would give the monster a reason. Frieza casually stepped on his palm, crushing the spread fingers under his foot; this only to get his attention. Vegeta didn't let out a whimper nor ground his teeth, the monster would have hated it if he gave in too early. Wrapping his tail more securely around his thigh he merely focused his gaze on the monster's foot.  


Digging his claws into Vegeta's neck Frieza lifted him up to his knees to look at his eyes; he didn't meet Frieza's stare, but knew better than to avert his gaze or to close his eyes, his blank eyes were fixed on his white jawline instead. Frieza parted his smirking lips to speak in a soft, feminine murmur, his menacing voice always void of emotion - "Monkey," he smiled, his grip tightening minutely. Vegeta tried to steady his raging pulse as he felt the warmth of his blood flowing slowly against his cold fingers. He pressed harder, cutting off his respiration until he got what he wanted; Vegeta swallowed against his palm as the edge of his vision started blurring. "It has been too long."  


Frieza gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Vegeta's face before driving his knee into his abdomen repeatedly, all the while securing his half standing position with the hand on his throat. Vegeta merely grunted in response, his jaw flinching almost imperceptibly when the monster's shin found his reproductive organs time after time. Frieza was already getting bored. He backhanded Vegeta's jaw before releasing a blast of energy point blank to his face, sending him flying across the floor. Was it time to scream? The Lord didn't seem unpleased.   


Frieza walked over to him, halting inches away from his face. He placed his foot on Vegeta's face, crushing it under his weight as he ordered one of his elite to know him. The alien did accordingly without feeling, tearing his opening, digging his nails deep into the base of his tail, shredding it. The more sultry blood lubricated the carnage on his insides, the harder the monster's foot pressed on his head, earning small whimpers from the form writhing beneath it, still managing to keep its arms limply beside it. Vegeta felt his eyes leak blood and tears and something else under the growing pressure as his mind sought for something to fix upon.  


Out of Frieza's command one alien fighter followed another in assaulting his torn opening, each a little larger than the last. Finally Frieza stomped his head and kicked his face, flinging it back from the pool of blood that had formed under his nose and mouth, tearing away pieces of burned flesh in its wake. Closing in again he kneeled down beside Vegeta's body, removing the rest of his clothing. The monster tentatively punched his stomach and he puffed as small streams of blood escaped through his ground teeth. Frieza repeated the action several times, each blow carrying more force, before flipping Vegeta around. Frieza tenderly caressed his limp tail that now was attached to his body only by shreds of skin. Instead of tearing it off he proceeded to systematically break every bone in his lower body, starting with his feet and working his way up his shins and thighs, attaining broken sobs from the Saiyan. Vegeta finally mobilized his arms, trying to use them to pull his body further away from the monster. Frieza stopped his attempt by pressing his index finger on the small of his back, smiling all the while.   


The monster straddled his broken legs and massaged his back sensuously. Vegeta dug his fingers through the weak metallic floor in preparation for what ever would come next. Frieza traced his spine with his coriaceous fingers stopping just above his waistline. Digging his claws deep within his flesh he released two massive ki-blasts into his back, finally rediscovering his breaking point. And Vegeta screamed. Until cold leathery hands crushed his throat, he screamed. The Saiyan's cries were the only thing to be heard in the room that had fallen silent soon after the onslaught had begun, only now and then accompanied by sickly sounds of bones breaking, flesh tearing, skin burning, meat slamming into something wet, until even the coarsest of Frieza's soldiers had retired, only his personal guard remaining.  


The pain and existence had become the same, so much so that Vegeta didn't know when the molestation had ceased. His mind had lost all focus, his senses he could no longer rely on; his hearing was impaired by clotted blood in his ears canals, in place of his nose was a lump of something unrecognizable that might once have been living tissue, he tasted only the salty tangs of blood and adrenaline. His vision under the eye lids that were swollen shut had long ago been replaced by blackened spots in a sea of white. As his every muscle stiffened against the only sensation he had left, he could no longer differentiate the sources of hurt. It didn't matter if the pain was pulsating from his ruptured scrotum or the hairline fractures in his cranium - it all blended into one in some unholy balance. Frieza sat on his throne and contently watched the Saiyan lying on his side, his face resting in a pool of blood and drool that sprung in a steady torrent from his open mouth. His disjointed arm drooped above the floor in a strange angle and with every heartbeat a little more of his life's essence rhythmically poured out of the countless cuts and fissures decorating his mangled form, his punctured lungs slowly filling with the same liquid.  


"See to it that the monkey heals on his own accord," Frieza told one of his subjects, waving his hand casually at the motionless figure on the floor.  
  
"G-go...ood," Vegeta finally spoke, almost unfeeling of the pain it caused to his broken larynx. Frieza shot up from his seat and gathered a ball of ki in his hand. So, the boy had some fight in him yet.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"The Loh..rd's decis..ion peh..leases me," he rasped, vomiting blood and teeth between his boundlessly labored breaths. "Perrrh-haps.. this.. ttime. the.. nneural ahh... pathhways wwon't... re.. generate."  
  
Frieza slowly walked back to him, each step causing a tremor that multiplied behind his temples, making him shudder violently. Let him kill me. The lizard sneered and pressed his foot on Vegeta's elbow that dangled above the ground. Stepping down he effortlessly broke his arm in half as the Saiyan's mind finally gave in. Synapse after synapse died until it was completely shut down, his eyes staring lifelessly at the cold emptiness of space visible from the windows of the throne room. Frieza's subsequent kicks in his midriff no longer made his face contort, not even reflexively. There was only nothing.  


***********  


"The prince is waking."  
  
Vegeta came to in the tank as the ship's scientists drained its green liquid contents, the slimy substance still clinging to his skin. He refused to open his eyes as the world returned to him, clenching his fists as busy hands swiftly removed his breathing mask. The monster wouldn't even allow him to escape to insanity, the tank had healed any physical damage done to his brain. The prince growled and soon screamed on the top of his lungs to ward off his frustration, his pain, his helplessness. He quickly opened his eyes, staring at the floor of the tank, seeing the life around him from under his draping wet locks. It is not as if he heard, or was even listening as the staff discussed him like he was a laboratory rat or a caged animal to experiment on. He just wanted to hurt someone else. Kill something. He released his ki, the tank having again doubled his strength. The following discharge destroyed the tank and everything around him, leaving nothing alive or unmarred in the compound.  


"You certainly push your luck," Zarbon walked in the room, beckoned by the sounds of the explosion. In the middle of the charbroiled room he saw a naked ten year old boy sitting in a heap of tangled limbs, shaking visibly as much from the aftermath of his violence as from the rage inside him that took longer each time to subdue.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Vegeta still refused to look up. "I didn't do anything to deserve this. There is not much worse he could do to me even if I had."  
  
"Get dressed. You're being shipped to eliminate the inhabitants of planet Curaku."  
  
"Of course."  


//  
  
THE END 

  



End file.
